Christmas, Everyday Poem by Kewayne Wadley

Your love is just like Christmas,
One day out of Three hundred Sixty-Five days,
Just as an Apple is just An Apple,
A bite that nurishes once bitten,
A core soon to be spoiled,
Going just as soon as it comes,
A gift given, expecting nothing in return as the present is just that,
A present, trimmed with long bows, sincere with thought,
Filled with mounds of snow spread with more to come,
Sprinkled across a field where our eyes danced,
A fire place built with hands that ignite the logs soon to be sparked with a curiosity lost in depth,
Smiles spread like blankets,
The smells that lure the season to change,
Why can't Christmas come every day,
A tender caress, dared to be remembered,
Seen for what's on the outside,
Not quite what it seems as history has it wrote differently,
Why can't Christmas come every day,
Why must you go away for so long